


The Last Time

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sexual Tension, Sexual Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1508384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl wakes up next to Arcee, not for the first time but maybe for the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

This had _got_ to stop happening. Prowl had said so before but this time he _really_ meant it. Really! He made groggy sounds and shifted under the weight of an arm curled over his waist. The warm body huddled close to his back breathed moist air over his neck and Prowl shuddered. He licked the dryness off his lips and restrained his EM fields, making them plaster-thin against his awakening body. 

As the satisfaction a night full of overloads could give drained away with every tick of his internal clock it left behind a coldness Prowl was too familiar with. 

Shifting, fluid and other matter cracked on his thighs. It made Prowl cringe. Momentarily loathing outgrew restraint, EM field’s flickered and caressed the body beside him. 

Prowl froze and held his breath. 

His EM fields sucked close to him again but it was too late. 

Arcee grumbled, her arm tightened round him and a leg he hadn’t realised was settled _between_ his slid upward, knee pressing to his interface, still open and sticky from the previous night. 

Part of Prowl’s instinct was to rock into the contact, he did so minutely, the haze of a lazy system’s reboot ignoring his pride. While his sense of self-preservation slumbered on Prowl’s loose immorality remained unchecked. A hand dragged slowly over his wings and his breathing stuttered, he thought he was being quiet but their proximity was so close that nothing went unnoticed. 

“Morning.” Arcee murmured. She made no effort to control her vortex of emotion, it swirled in her EM fields like a storm and crashed into Prowl. With sickening pride she pressed closer to him, filling every gap, not even the air could fit between them. Prowl nudged at her weakly, wanting to dismiss her. He’d be facing the working world soon, he had other things to focus on, more important things, matters of war and politics… if only she wasn’t making it so hard to concentrate. 

“Good morning.” She said again. Short, sharp licks of her glossa touching just beneath his audio receptors. 

Prowl’s lips curled into a snarl, 

“There’s nothing good about it!” He managed to sound angry, even with his voice burdened and deepened by sleep. 

Briefly, almost unnoticeably, if they’d not been so close Prowl could’ve dismissed it as imagination, but he _felt_ Arcee’s body tighten, like she’d been scalded. But then she laughed. Loudly. Shoving firmly between Prowl’s door wings and then rolling them apart - still laughing. 

“If you hate it so much why do you keep letting it happen?” 

Quickly, Prowl opened his mouth to retort but stopped. The words, whatever they were, lost. Maybe he didn’t have a reason - more likely he did but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Acree knew this, she enjoyed his sullenness.

“But aren’t you glad I stay with you? Unlike a certain other mech…” She was rolling back into him again, pasting her self onto him, almost melting together while she rocked her hips into his aft, trying to be distracting from the sting her barbed comments left behind. “You’re so hot Prowl, even in the morning, I still like you, even if you don’t like yourself.” 

She grabbed his hand and started pulling it downward: destination between his thighs. Prowl rejected the action with a snarl and ripped his hand free. 

Arcee wasn’t willing to give in. Taking advantage of her nimble disposition and a whim she swung on top of Prowl, twisting his hips and sitting upon them, just like she did last night when Prowl was more agreeable to her desires. 

The suddenness startled Prowl. Although he’d been more than tolerant of her so far Arcee would soon learn that there are limits to Prowl’s sufferance. She’s taken advantage of his submission and fooled herself into thinking her dominance was unchallenged. How could she possibly believe that?

“But do you know what I like most?” 

Prowl didn’t care enough to answer, but he did turn fully so that he was lying flat beneath her on the berth. Habitually his hands squeezed at her waist, a little out of anger, half to stop her from squirming so suggestively against him. Prowl internal clock was approaching the hour, his morning was wasting away, already he had little time prepare for the day ahead and, as a mech of strategy, he appreciated structure to his routine. Rushing was something he never enjoyed and yet, he couldn’t tear himself away. 

For his lack of will power he blamed himself more. With it rose the need to be punished. Prowl lived under the shadow of blame everyday, be it other mechs cursing him or his own guilt and because of that…

Before he knew it he was moving under her. Adopting the same numbed and needy expression he’d worn the night before, remembering his place made his valve quiver and that response put a misery into his tanks. It was the kind of low only the brief high of an overload could cover up. Just one more… 

Just one… 

Then he’d get up, go to work, and it would be like nothing had ever changed. 

“Don’t you want to know what I like about you?” Prowl’s wants were never even a consideration, Arcee was already telling him, “Aside from the _admirable_ care you show your Autobots even after they’re so insulting toward you, and, aside from your sense of duty and you’re oh-so attractive smarts.” Slowly, so seductively, her thin hands started sliding up his middle, applying enough pressure to feel every bump and tremble, “What I really like about you is… this.” And she lifted her hands to firmly squeeze the bulging curve of his bumper jutting from his chest. Prowl hissed and Arcee chuckled, “Oh yeah.” She swirled her fingers tips over the headlamps, relishing every delicious shudder, sucking out more and more of Prowl’s restraint, knowing a few more touches would return him to the pliable, wanton mess he loathed to love, “Back in the day, all I wanted in a mate was a nice big bumper… but after receiving some shapely commodities of my own… well,” She returned her hands to her own chest and rubbed over the petite mounds, “Maybe you _can_ get too much of a good thing.” She laughed wickedly and ducked in closer, like she was preparing for another one of the harsh, biting kisses Prowl could never quite prepare for, “The aches I get in my spine are _terrible,_ and being overbalanced all the time… how do you put up with it?” It was like she was actually being serious, but then she smiled - knowingly, so smug she made Prowl feel like he was being mocked. When a scowl was the only response she received Arcee chittered on, “Were you always this big, or did you enhance yourself somehow? Why would you need to…oh - unless you were trying to catch someone’s attention… it didn’t work did it?” By now she was sliding back her interface covers, all this talking was just part of the game. Somewhere between now and where they’d first began Arcee had discovered Prowl’s susceptibility for humiliation. She commented on it regularly, especially when supping fluids out of him, “Poor Prowl.” That made him flinch. Though her spike wasn’t displayed the folds of her valve looked slack enough to slide between, not that she often allowed Prowl the privilege. “What, did I upset you?” 

“Arcee.” He was warning her. As usual his mulish stare had the opposite effect, it persuaded her to goad him even more.

“Was Chromedome into big b”- 

Prowl cut her off. Lunging forward, reminding her she was only on top because he _let_ her. The thin-framed femme with a power-complex. She was no mech - not anymore. Prowl caught her as she yelped, spun sharply and pinned her onto the berth - the supple metal bouncing beneath them. 

“Finally a reaction!” There was no certainty behind her words this time. Trapped under Prowl she’d lost control over her own game. 

“You promised.” Chromedome was never to be mentioned outright, even alluding to him was enough to get under Prowl’s skin. He could survive under the weight of everything, but not that. 

With a snort Arcee twisted in his grasp. 

“It’s not fun when only one of us is doing all the work. You just lie there, you’re so absorbed in yourself that…”

“ _You promised_!” Prowl barked, louder, Arcee’s face darkened into a sneer.

“He must have been one hell of a frag.”

The metal of Arcee’s wrists creaked under the strain of Prowl’s closing fists.

“Did you lie as still as a blow up doll for him too? I’m not surprised he” - 

Arcee felt her head being pulled on, her words cut off in a groan, Prowl bent her neck back until she was arching off the berth and against him. Their outsized chest components squashing together. 

“I was on top.” Prowl informed with gritty satisfaction. Under him Arcee was straining for breath, the hand he’d released flopping helplessly. 

He could leave her like this, Prowl thought. If only serve for some kind of nasty justice after she weaponised Chromedome’s name. But at this angle, with her prone and open beneath him it was a hard sight to abandon without regret. And with the image of Chromedome fresh in his mind… situations, _positions_ , were beginning to blur together. 

“And what would you do, if you had to do all the work?” Arcee teased, pushing into him more, making Prowl tense and close his eyes in memory. The sight, the sounds and smell, it was all so distinct. From when he touched between hot transformation seams and found palpitating wires to when he heard his name being moaned or sobbed - 

-“ _nnhhg_ Prowl!” Arcee bucked under him. In his fantasy Prowl had let his touch wander. It startled him slightly, how effortlessly he’d tumbled into his dreamland without knowing and the residual effect had left behind a fierce longing. 

Prowl swooped forward. 

“I’d make it good for him.” He whispered, this was less interfacing and almost more sparring, when he hiked Arcee’s legs round his waist and sunk his denta into her neck. Her shock escaped her in a gasp, but to let Prowl have the last word would be impossible. 

“P-Prove it.” 

And when Prowl’s restraint crumbled and he keenly slid inside her while she eagerly encouraged him Prowl swore to himself that this would be the last time.   

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you'd like to make REQUEST please inbox me or leave the request in the comments.


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